


Business Before Pleasure

by Arkada



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Consensual Sex, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kylo looks pretty in chains, M/M, Master/Slave, Public Sex, Slave auction, Slave!Kylo, dom!hux, sub!Kylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:14:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8155328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkada/pseuds/Arkada
Summary: Hux has a routine while on shore leave: find an auction house and buy a pleasure slave to keep him entertained for the week. 
This year's acquisition looks to be more expensive than usual, and Hux won't commit to a purchase like that without being sure the merchandise is worth it.
A sample of the man's skills is in order.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I own precisely 0/7 of the Star Wars movies.

The fourth slave led out onto the auction block is just as weak and insipid as the first three. This one is a pale slip of a thing, lank blond hair and a too-hungry hollowness to her cheeks, trying and failing to hide her trembling. There’s a greenish tinge to her skin that might be nausea, or a telltale sign of mixed blood. And Hux supposes whoever purchases her won’t be leaving her clothed for long - this is a _pleasure_ slave auction, after all - but still her current master could have at least tried to flatter her appearance with suitable garments. Hux conceals a sneer of disappointment behind the lip of his tumbler. He had honestly expected better from this place. Perhaps he’s arrived on an off week, but this is the only week of leave Hux has to give.

Every year since he rose high enough in the ranks to be granted off-ship leave, this routine has worked perfectly: buy a slave to keep him company and warm his bed, then pass them on to one of the new worlds the First Order is trying to colonize. He doesn’t have the time to re-sell them and recover his credits, and the First Order is benefited more by having additional settlers on the colonies than by one general’s personal accounts inflating. Hux has a preferred type and they tend to become good laborers - tall, well-built, still with a little bit of fight in them such that they _choose_ to submit to his obvious authority.

But he hasn’t placed a single bid at this auction yet. He’ll have to eventually, though, unless he wants to spend his leave alone. This moon is small enough that there isn’t another auction house he could try, and he definitely can’t afford to hire a professional escort for the entire week.

The woman is sold to someone in the back corner. Hux doesn’t bother to watch as the credits change hands and the block clears for the next slave. The name of the upcoming master is read out - something unpronounceable and definitely not Human, and apparently an agent for the Hutts, of all the disgusting races - and heavy footsteps sound from the corridor behind the block.

Overlaid by the clinking of metal chains. _That’s_ new.

Hux straightens in his seat and watches closely.

The slave brought out is Human, at least, taller than even Hux and about thrice as broad. A rough mop of longish dark hair doesn’t conceal the fact that his chin is lifted and his eyes, equally dark, are raised to scan the auction hall. He’s wearing little, but that little is absolutely enticing: a weighty metal belt slung low around his hips, holding up two floor-length falls of black fabric that manage to conceal his modesty and very little else, and a sash of the same fabric draped over his chest, hanging from one shoulder and tied at the opposite hip. That, and the heavy shackles at wrists and ankles, connected by a length of chain so he cannot raise his hands above his waist.

Stars, they’re selling _this_ creature as a _pleasure_ slave? Those arms could rip a man of Hux’s stature in half.

Hux’s tongue is itching to call his opening bid before the slave even mounts the block. He swallows a burning mouthful of his terrible whiskey to keep himself silent.

The slave goes where he’s directed pliantly enough, standing in the center of the block. He maintains that highly unusual, highly pleasing proud tilt of his head, and his stance is open and relaxed as if he wants to show off his muscular stature to best effect. His hips are canted forward ever so slightly, though the effect is spoiled by the wrist shackles blocking any view of whatever bulge is beneath his skirt.

Curious. Hux is no stranger to slaves preferring to go to richer masters, but he’s never seen one sell themselves so well. It’s as if there’s no place he would rather be than waiting for someone to buy him.

“Opening bids, noble guests!” the auctioneer shouts in heavily accented Basic. “Who wants to tame this beauty? Don’t be shy! He’ll be well worth breaking, I guarantee-”

“Seven thousand,” Hux calls, and doesn’t let his lips show another sneer. What fool would break something so magnificent?

“Eight thousand,” calls another voice almost immediately. Hux has a rival. He narrows his eyes at the being who spoke: a Yhtte, all round and reptilian and looking entirely as repulsive as its species is reputed to be. Hux pauses to let anyone else speak up. He has no desire to get into a bidding war that his budget will struggle to cover.

A hand raises across the room. “Eight point fiv-”

“Ten!” shouts the Yhtte, right over the previous bidder. This time Hux does let his sneer show. The discourteous, ignorant - it isn’t worthy of owning something as glorious as this slave.

Hux glances back at the block, and thinks he sees the tiniest smirk of amusement across the slave’s full, plush lips.

Hux _must_ have him.

“Twelve,” he drawls casually, as if the amount means nothing to him. As if he has a great deal more at hand. He doesn’t, but the slightest crack in the other bidder’s confidence might be what makes the difference.

The Yhtte shoots to its feet as if Hux has personally offended it. “ _Twenty_.”

Kriff.

The slave’s master gasps with delight, and the auctioneer’s eye goes wide. The previous slaves today have gone for ten thousand - all four of them put together.

Every head in the hall swivels towards Hux. The auctioneer clears his throat. “Do I have twenty-one?”

Twenty-one thousand. It’s an almost unthinkable amount of money on Hux’s salary. But he would pay it. He would if he only _knew_ … Hux raises his voice. “For that much, I want to sample what I’m buying first.”

The slave’s shoulders twitch as if he’s holding back _laughter_.

The master isn’t caught by surprise this time. Insectoid eyes blink at Hux. “Sample? He not come free.”

“He won’t be. I’m very interested in this purchase.”

“You like, you pay twenty- _five_.”

For this man, Hux will draw the extra from the Order’s training budget and declare it an investment. “Agreed.”

The master grunts something in her own language at the slave, and shoves him in the shoulder to make him step down off the block. Hux rises from his chair and meets him somewhere near the front of the room, in a clear space between the buyers’ seats and the block.

He is indeed an inch or two taller than Hux, with arms so thick Hux might not be able to wrap both hands around them. He doesn’t have the unwashed stink that neglected bodies do, either, and the black cloth hanging off him is of quite good quality. Someone has been keeping him fit for use.

The slave doesn’t say a word but his face might as well be an unlocked datapad for all the information it’s giving Hux. He sees amusement, yes, and curiosity, and just a little bit of satisfaction, perhaps at having taken himself this far and having two bidders fighting over him.

But he’s Hux’s for the next little while, and Hux has every intention of taking advantage of that fact. His cock twitches at just the thought. He wants far more than a hurried suck in this filthy room with half a hundred strangers watching, of course, but he’ll take whatever he can get.

Hux flicks a finger at the ground. “On your knees.”

The slave goes with a heavy rattle of his chains hitting the duracrete. He’s no less pleasing in this submissive posture, knees slightly apart to let his chains and skirts pool together between them. Hux wraps a hand in that thick dark hair and yanks the slave’s head back to meet his eyes.

The expression in them stops Hux in his tracks. Pain he would have expected and ignored, likewise anger or resignation. But the slave looks… disappointed, as if he was hoping for better treatment.

Hux scans his kneeling body and reassesses his approach. This man is built like a warrior, and this close Hux can see old scars that might well be from combat, not beatings. Perhaps treating him more like a soldier, giving him discipline he earns rather than kicking him down from the start, will garner Hux better results?

The slave looks strong and willing enough to bite Hux’s cock clean off if given half a chance. Hux wants him to decide not to.

He pitches his voice low so that the others watching shouldn’t be able to make out the words. “Are you going to be good for me?”

The slave raises an eyebrow and cocks his head into Hux’s hand. “Let me go and you can find out.”

He is an absolute _delight_.

Hux straightens, dropping his hand from the slave’s hair, and as he does so he lets his jacket fall open to reveal the blaster sitting at his hip. He’s in civilian clothes, since a First Order general can’t be seen at some shady backwater moon’s pleasure slave auction, but he refused to leave behind his personalized blaster. The slave’s eyes flicker to it and back to Hux’s own, dismissive. _You won’t be needing that_.

“Good,” Hux says, and undoes the fastenings of his slacks. “Get to work.”

The slave reaches out, shackled hands quite elegant in their movements. Experienced in coping with his restraints. He looks up even as his hands - rough and calloused, yes, but not unpleasantly so - pull Hux gently from his underwear. “Doing what, exactly, sir?”

His eyes are wide with feigned innocence, but the charade stops there. Hux is growing far too fond of that arrogant smirk. “Suck my cock, you insolent brat. Before I stripe your back so hard your master will be lucky to get a thousand for you.”

The slave’s expression is so open Hux can easily read that he’s surprised and impressed Hux rose to the dare, and commanded exactly what he wanted instead of hiding behind euphemisms and hints. A pointed, irked cough from the master says she’s rather less warm about it.

“You damage him, you pay twenty- _seven_.”

Hux waves it away without looking up. The slave’s huge hands cupping his cock almost - almost - make it look small. But Hux has never had anything to be ashamed of in that department, and even less so as the slave starts stroking him to hardness. The sweeps of someone else’s hands are thrilling after so long alone, the unfamiliar texture of the slave’s skin unpredictable and far more stimulating. The slave runs hot despite wearing so little, and the more he works Hux the more those hands feel like firebrands. Hux’s pulse is thundering in his ears.

He’s not yet fully hard when the slave leans in and presses an open-mouthed kiss along the side of the shaft. Sith hells, his mouth is even hotter than his hands. The touch of his tongue between his lips sends Hux’s mind spinning with eager thoughts of _more, more, more_. The slave is so confident he must be practiced at this, must know exactly how to use his mouth, those plush lips and searing heat. Hux will be very disappointed if he fails to take him into his throat on the first try.

His hand drops back into the slave’s hair, not to direct him so much as to steady himself on legs suddenly going weak. The slave’s eyes gleam with satisfaction as he turns his head and licks down Hux’s length to the base. Hux hisses between his teeth at the flood through his nerves. White sparks flare behind his eyes. The fact that he can’t feel the caress of the slave’s hair against his thigh through these trousers is suddenly infuriating.

Twenty-five thousand? Hux would pay twenty-five _million_ if he knew how to get his hands on that kind of money.

The slave pulls back from Hux’s shaft and then wraps his lips delicately around the head. Kriff, this man was _made_ to suck cock - he goes down smoothly, taking more and more, tongue laving the underside and his whole mouth hot and humid. There’s not even a suggestion of his teeth touching Hux. Hux’s eyes have fallen shut and he can’t remember when he closed them. And stars, he doesn’t _care_ because the slave swallows once around him, a rush of sensation along Hux’s entire length wiping out all other thought. Then just like that he’s down the slave’s throat and those luxuriant lips are pressed to his groin. He can feel the warm puffs of air through the slave’s nose.

“Very good,” Hux murmurs, unable to not give him his due credit. The slave rubs his tongue firmly along Hux’s cock in return and, from nowhere, gives his balls a gentle squeeze.

Hux jerks and feels the first strings of orgasm starting to pull taut.

“Enough!” the slave’s master shouts, and Hux’s eyes snap open and his head snaps up. “You like him, you buy him now.”

The slave moves as if to pull away. Hux’s hand in his hair tightens to keep him exactly where he is. Pulling together what’s left of his conscious alertness is harder than usual, but Hux has fought, successfully, to keep his position as general through one crisis, sneak attack, and surprise inspection after another. It’s not outside his abilities to be composed with his cock down a nearly-naked slave’s throat in public.

“We agreed I could try him,” Hux says, once he’s confident his voice will sound as icy as he wants. It does. “I am not finished.”

“Yes, let him,” says Hux’s rival, the Yhtte. Hux turns his head to see the reptile watching him with far too much attention for Hux’s liking. “I insist.”

Some of the other buyers in the hall actually _applaud_ to add their weight to the demand. Around Hux’s cock the slave huffs something that’s definitely a laugh.

The master snarls, tongue clicking against her bared teeth in displeasure, but backs down. Hux drops his head, dismissing her from his sight, and runs a hand along the slave’s cheek. His mouth is still stretched wide around Hux’s cock, and Hux can feel the little strains in his jaw muscles as he keeps it that way. He looks up at Hux’s touch, eyebrow lifted and dark eyes asking _What next?_

Hux rocks his hips forward an inch and the slave gives a gentle suck in response. His eyes fall shut as he concentrates on his task. His fingers caress Hux’s balls again, hands twisted to keep his shackles from digging into Hux’s thighs. But the back of Hux’s neck itches with the weight of those staring eyes, and he can almost feel the scorn rolling off them. Is Hux fucking his acquisition or making love to him?

“Pleasant enough,” Hux murmurs, “but I think you can do better. Let’s see whether you make me come or pass out first.”

Spurred on by his own filth as much as the staring crowd, he claps his hand to the back of the slave’s head and shoves him down on his cock.

The slave just manages to control his choking, as if he had almost enough time to prepare himself for it. Hux sets a steady rhythm, slow but hard, ramming himself down that open throat. The barely-there fluttering of a well-mastered gag reflex draws Hux deeper. He’s not giving the slave any chances to breathe, but he seems to be managing it just fine on his own. His face is a little flushed but he’s not struggling against Hux’s hold on his head, and no tears line his eyelids.

Hux _needs_ this man. And he won’t be shipped to some nameless Order colony when Hux’s week of leave is up.

Hux groans as the thoughts flood through him one after the other. Keeping his slave in his quarters, ready for Hux’s use at the end of every shift - and he _would_ be used at the end of _every_ shift and no mistake - resting his heels on that broad back as he sips a drink, rehearsing his speeches while buried inside him until Hux could recite them under _any_ level of pressure… And judging by the scars of battle marring his flesh, he’ll make an excellent weapon for Hux to wield when official channels simply won’t do.

The image of fucking him while still covered in the blood of Hux’s slaughtered enemies is almost enough to make Hux come.

He breaks his rhythm to thrust once down the slave’s throat and stay there, holding him down on his cock. Hux grits his teeth against the onslaught of pleasure and forces himself deeper, hunting out every last millimeter of clutching wet heat. The slave moans around him and rises an inch or two off his heels to press himself even closer. Hux’s hand fists in that thick hair.

The slave is just as skilled with his tongue while nearly choking on Hux’s cock as when he’s free to use his own initiative. He traces hot liquid swirls around the base of Hux’s cock and rubs firmly along the underside, undeterred by Hux taking control of him. That hand at Hux’s balls stirs again, too, rolling his sac between thick fingers. Sensation pours up Hux’s spine with dizzying intensity; his head falls back and he lets out a single groan of bliss, thrusting once more into the slave’s mouth.

His orgasm takes him by surprise, as if it’s punched straight out of him. The rising ecstasy in him crests and breaks from nowhere, whiting out his mind in a single glittering surge. His body almost doubles over with the force of it.

His hand is braced on the slave’s shoulder to keep himself upright, and the slave himself is sucking Hux clean, swallowing his come without a word of instruction. Hux’s knees nearly tremble at the rush along his nerves.

Carefully, the slave withdraws and tucks Hux back into his trousers, hands gentle to avoid painfully overstimulating him. Those dark eyes blink and look up at Hux, all challenge and fire. “Enjoy your sample, sir?”

“Twenty-five thousand,” Hux muses, and swipes his thumb across the slave’s lips. They’re red and hot from sucking his cock, slick with saliva but not a single drop of stray come. “You’re worth every credit.”

The slave grins as if he’s the one getting the better end of the deal here. “Yes, sir.”

“Enough!” the master shouts, and barks something unpleasant-sounding in her own language. The slave’s expression shutters and he rises to his feet, overshadowing Hux for just a second before he shuffles back to the block, chains clinking.

“Wait,” the Yhtte says, and rises to its feet. “I want my turn.”

_Unacceptable_ , Hux thinks in sudden cold rage.

“We agreed if I liked him, I would pay twenty-five thousand,” Hux says smoothly, and steps forward once to reclaim the master’s attention. “I’ll pay in full right now.”

The Yhtte snarls, and shoves past a masked bounty hunter to get in front of Hux. “Thirty thousand, and I’ll bend him over and fuck him right in front of _you_ -”

The recoil of Hux’s blaster rocks it in his hand as he fires a single bolt into the Yhtte’s chest. The reptile stops, mouth agape and the wound smoking, before crashing to its knees, then forward onto its face.

The hall is completely silent. Hux holsters his blaster and turns to the slave’s master. “Twenty-five thousand.”

She doesn’t object, so Hux pulls out his credit chip and passes it to the auctioneer. He stares blankly without moving an inch to take Hux’s money. Hux lets his free hand slide towards his blaster again.

Chains clink beside Hux. “You will take the twenty-five thousand.”

“I will take the twenty-five thousand,” the auctioneer says, voice slow even taking into account his difficulty speaking Basic. Without looking at the chip in Hux’s hand he reaches out and takes it, then plugs it into the reader.

Hux doesn’t turn to face his new slave, who can apparently command reluctant men where Hux cannot. But he does glance down to see the man’s fingers cocked in a strange gesture, and there was something half-familiar in the timbre of his voice…

_Oh._

Well, that explains why his slavery seems to amuse him more than anything else.

Hux’s credit chip is passed back to him, along with what must be the key to the slave’s shackles. Hux pockets both and turns on his heel. “We’re going.”

“As you wish,” the slave, _his_ slave, says, and he falls in at Hux’s shoulder.

The other bidders stare wide-eyed as they pass, half of them at Hux and the other half at his blaster. One even performs some kind of ritual gesture, blessing themself or warding off evil. Hux takes it all as his due and strides out of the auction hall as if from a conquered Resistance base.

Outside, he flags down an aircar and glances behind him. His slave lifts his chin a little and meets Hux’s gaze, simmering with satisfaction.

So handsome, so alive, and all _his_. “What’s your name?”

“Kylo.”

~

Hux’s rooms are in a much nicer district. He’s confident that, in the unlikely event someone _did_ decide to rob him, the locks on the doors and windows would keep them out. He’s taken a spacious suite, too, having expected company. Kylo doesn’t seem surprised by the quality, stepping inside totally at ease. He probably thinks a man of Hux’s apparent means could buy this whole hotel.

Kylo stops in the middle of the lounge room and turns to Hux. “How may I serve you, sir?”

Hux folds his hands behind his back. “Lose the shackles.”

His slave raises a very insolent eyebrow. “You have the only key. Sir.”

“I’m quite certain you won’t need it. Let’s say my conviction is rather forceful.”

Kylo grins, and the shackles release and fall to the floor with a loud clatter. “No-one else has worked that out before. The Force is long forgotten by most.”

Hux takes two steps forward, staying just out of reach. “I am not most people. Though I doubt with your abilities you’d allow most people to possess you.” He takes one more step, pushing the shackles aside with his toe as he does. “I don’t care what you’re capable of so long as you do it obediently, are we clear?”

Kylo reaches out and, completely uninvited, tucks a loose strand of Hux’s hair back into place. “Where would be the fun in that?”

Hux jabs a finger at the bedroom. “On your back. I’m going to fuck you into submission, since that seems to be the only thing that works on you.”

Kylo gives a joking bow. “Yes, please, sir.”

He spins away, hips swaying far more than is necessary. Hux’s eyes follow him as if magnetized to the shift of muscles in his back, the teasing glimpse of his buttocks either side of the narrow black fabric of his skirt. Kylo lifts his arms and pulls off the sash decorating his torso, then drops it. His hands play across the fastenings of his metal belt, one at each hip. Hux’s mouth goes dry.

Kylo takes another step forward and the belt clicks open at both sides.

The bedroom door shuts behind him.

Kriffing _tease_ , he is. Hux finds himself grinning, and smothers it. It wouldn’t do to show his desire, even if Kylo can likely sense it for himself with the Force.

Hux retrieves the jar of lubricant from his duffle - still lying against the wall where he dropped it before heading straight out to find an auction - and follows Kylo into the bedroom. The door hisses aside to admit him.

Kylo’s on his back as ordered, managing to claim the whole of the bed for himself. His thick limbs are spread out indulgently, one hand stroking across the sheets as if savoring the high thread count. He’s naked and just as glorious as he should be, filling cock hanging flushed between his thighs, perfectly proportioned to him, pubic hair neatly trimmed the way Hux prefers.

_Mine, mine, mine_.

Kylo raises his head a little and eyes the lubricant in Hux’s hand. “I was looking for that.”

“Oh? You haven’t just been lying here like an emperor awaiting service?”

A smile tugs at Kylo’s lips. “Only a little.”

“Brat,” Hux scolds. It comes out more affectionate than he planned. He tosses the jar to Kylo, who catches it effortlessly. “Make yourself useful. Slick your cock up and hope it’s as good a ride as it looks.”

“Or what, you’ll take me back and demand a refund?”

Hux narrows his eyes. Any threat he could make would be empty, and Kylo clearly knows it. Unless… “Or I’ll cut it off and replace it with something better.”

“Ooh.” The surprised little bow of Kylo’s lips seems to say _Well played_. “Maybe you should have asked for a receipt. For sub-standard merchandise.”

“Maybe you should do as you’re told and I won’t need one.”

“Don’t worry, _sir_ ,” Kylo says, and unscrews the jar’s lid. “I have no intention of going anywhere.”

Hux has a dozen questions as to _why_ that might be, and every one of them can wait until Kylo’s not coating his fingers in the lubricant and slicking his massive cock with them.

He stirs under his own touch, cock twitching and thickening to stand straight. Kylo wraps his hand around it and gives it a good stroke, spreading the lubricant and definitely pleasuring himself along the way. Hux can hardly fault him, since he didn’t forbid that and is growing extremely fond of Kylo’s willfulness, especially in his bed.

Kylo wouldn’t need to tear Hux in half. He could kill him with a thought. The fact he hasn’t, that he would prefer to be kneeling at Hux’s feet than standing over him, is almost more satisfying than his mouth around Hux’s cock was.

Hux hasn’t felt a rush like this since he signed off on the final designs for Starkiller.

Kylo releases his cock to land with a wet _slap_ against his stomach. “I think I’m ready for you, sir, though perhaps you’d like to inspect me yourself?”

If Kylo keeps calling him _sir_ like that, Hux will never be able to look his subordinates in the eye again without breaking a sweat. Or getting hard. “Hux. Call me Hux.” No-one on the _Finalizer_ calls him by his name without his title attached.

“Hux,” Kylo purrs, drawing out the sibilant. “I like how that sounds.”

Sith hells, Hux does too. “Good, because you’ll be screaming it loud enough later.”

Kylo’s hand returns to his cock and strokes it again. “Is this room soundproofed?”

“What will please you more, _yes_ or _no_? You brazen slut. I’m not sure why you’re selling yourself, but you enjoy it more than you have any right to.”

“You’ll enjoy it too,” Kylo says, and runs the hand not wet with lubricant down his splayed-open thigh. His fingertips tease at the soft inner flesh. Hux swallows, mouth dry with a thirst that isn’t for water. Almost without conscious decision, he undresses himself piece by piece, dropping his clothes and blaster unremarked on the carpet.

Naked as Kylo, Hux climbs onto the bed and straddles his slave’s gorgeous body. Even Hux’s best troopers are less well-muscled. Despite Kylo’s size there’s a dangerous-looking leanness to him; not an inch of his body is wasted on fat. Hux lets himself trace the defined edges of Kylo’s pectorals, then abdominals. Kylo shifts, sensitive, and inhales sharply in a most pleasing way. That heat Hux noted before is still in him, skin deliciously warm to Hux’s touch. Hux knows he himself tends to run cool and doesn’t envy Kylo his position on the receiving end of that.

He traces a nipple with his finger to watch it pebble. “Cold?”

“In places,” Kylo says with a significant leer downwards. “Warm me up?”

“Ask me nicely.”

Kylo plays along. “Please, Hux,” he murmurs, low and throaty. His chest arches up into Hux’s touch. “ _Master_.”

Kylo deserves - well, neither a raise nor a promotion will do, but some kind of reward after tonight. For now, Hux is done dragging out what they both want.

He picks up the jar from where Kylo set it in the bedsheets, and slicks his fingers to prepare himself. He deliberately drags the back of his hand over Kylo’s cock as he reaches back between his own buttocks, and grins at Kylo’s hiss through clenched teeth. Hux starts with two fingers, the stretch sharp but made pleasant by his state of arousal. He’s efficient about it, loosening his muscles and avoiding his prostate. He wants Kylo’s heavy cock inside him and nothing else will do. Still, his own cock twitches as he adds a third finger, and the flare of heat from the added stretch pulses in his groin. He’s not particularly hard, not so soon after his last orgasm, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting this. _Needing_ this before he sleeps tonight.

Kylo’s quiescent, lying splayed beneath Hux and staring up at him with open hunger. His hands are clenching and unclenching as if he wants to touch Hux but refuses to without permission.

He’s so good, and Hux always wants his slaves to _share_ his bed. “Go on. You may.” His voice comes out breathy despite how familiar he is with fingering himself.

Kylo’s hands are massive, spanning the width of Hux’s narrow thighs and then some. He runs them up and down, fingers curling possessively. On the next pass he ventures higher, ghosting his fingertips across more sensitive flesh.

Hux shudders with pleasure. Kylo does it again, then traces the lines where Hux’s thighs meet his hips. It spreads a glow through Hux’s entire body. He rolls his hips forward into Kylo’s touch, seeking more of it. Kylo takes the hint and settles his hands around Hux’s hipbones, thumbs stroking the crests. They jut out far more than Kylo’s do, but Kylo seems happy enough with what he finds, squeezing firmly and resettling his hands to his satisfaction.

“Please,” he murmurs again, and pushes Hux backwards; not enough to actually shift him, but making his intentions very clear.

Hux grins down at him, and withdraws his fingers. “Alright. _Kylo_.” He savors the feel of the name in his mouth. “Make it good.”

True to form, Kylo starts slowly, shifting Hux over his cock. One of his hands comes around to spread Hux open, the other holding his cock upright and steady. He urges Hux down, no faster than Hux is willing to go, until the head of his cock nudges Hux’s rim.

Kylo is already leaking fluid, hot drops of it searing Hux’s skin. Hux smiles, pleased by the evidence of desire that no Human male can fake. Kylo’s hips lift from the bed in response to rub his cock back and forth, catching and dragging at Hux’s rim but never quite slipping inside.

Hux opens his mouth to order Kylo to get on with it, and that’s when Kylo takes a firmer grip on him and pulls him down. Hux takes all of an inch, maybe two, before the sheer size of Kylo’s cock punches the air from his lungs. Stars, he’s so _thick_ , three fingers might not have been enough…

“Hux?” Kylo asks, voice pinched with concern.

Hux sets his hands on Kylo’s chest and digs his nails in. “Don’t stop now, you brute!”

Kylo cracks his hips up and buries his cock another few, powerful inches inside Hux. It’s so good already, filling him completely, and it’s not even all the way in yet. There’s a low, almost cramping sensation in Hux’s gut as his organs make way for Kylo’s cock. Hux sucks in air and bears down for more.

He has to concentrate far, far more than usual on staying relaxed, on keeping himself open enough to take Kylo. Even among his pleasure slaves, Hux has never had a partner this well-endowed. The difference between Kylo and those others can only be fractions of inches in absolute terms, but the effect that extra width has on Hux is exponential. Just rocking his hips to settle himself makes Kylo shift and press inside him, hard and driving against his walls. He’s rubbing Hux’s prostate now, not from skill or aim but because there’s no room for him to avoid it. The surging sparks are just as good either way.

Another slide downwards and Hux’s thighs brush Kylo’s, his balls touch Kylo’s groin. He’s not all the way, not yet, but he’s so close Hux can almost taste Kylo in the back of his throat. His hands clench into fists and his nails leave lovely red marks on Kylo’s skin. “Come on, come on-”

Kylo’s finger slips between Hux’s buttocks and runs along the line where his cock meets Hux’s ass. Hux can feel his rim stretched tight, Kylo’s finger tracing every straining fiber of muscle. Kylo rubs him firmly, making him relax further, and gravity drags Hux the rest of the way.

Kylo’s sheathed, Hux sitting across his hips, Hux’s cock hard and twitching against Kylo’s stomach. Kylo’s own cock is throbbing inside Hux, so big Hux can feel himself quivering as he struggles to adjust. Kylo’s hands move again, one pressing down on Hux’s belly and the other in the small of his back, as if seeking the outline of his cock through Hux’s flesh. Kylo moans, head falling back as though he’s found it. The massage of his hands makes Hux feel it even more, pressure from outside and in, the shape of Kylo’s cock bursting in his mind until it’s all he knows.

He’s curled forward over Kylo, hands braced on his firm chest to keep himself from collapsing completely. He’s breathless, head spinning with lust, so much pleasure that he can’t think of what he wants next.

Kylo decides for him.

His hands grip Hux firmly under his thighs, and lift him up.

The drag of Kylo’s cock makes Hux shout out, and the rush when Kylo shoves him back down has him almost blacking out with ecstasy. One of Kylo’s arms wraps around Hux’s back to support him, and he lifts Hux again, just as easily with one hand as two. And then there’s a _third_ hand, stroking his cock and electrifying every one of Hux’s nerves. His eyes shoot open and he stares down at himself to see nothing, nothing, but he can _feel_ it. Stars, he can feel it, a hand wrapping him completely, working his cock to the same hard and heavy rhythm as Kylo’s fucking. Kylo’s fingers are tracing patterns over Hux’s skin even as he lifts Hux up and down, again and again.

“All your power,” Hux chokes, “and you’re using it for-”

“Your service, Hux,” Kylo breathes, and Hux convulses at the promise and comes, split open on Kylo’s cock and undone by his hands. The orgasm cracks through him like a whip, intense and sharp and echoing again and again in its own wake. He screws himself down on Kylo’s cock to prolong the pleasure, and laughs at Kylo’s desperate little cry as Hux uses him.

Hux clenches down on Kylo’s cock inside him, and the Force hand around Hux’s cock disappears as Kylo loses control of it. Kylo groans, low and long, head thrown back and digging into the mattress. Hux admires the corded lines of his neck, the faint sheen of sweat lining his muscles, the white splatters of his own come across Kylo’s toned stomach. Hux sweeps his hands down Kylo’s chest and runs his fingers through the mess he’s made of his slave.

Hux gets his breathing back before the rush has faded from his skin. “Do you want to come?”

Kylo’s eyes are wide and black with lust. “I want to serve you, please you-”

“Is that all? There’s not one part of you that’s crying out for it?” Hux clenches around Kylo’s cock again. He’s overstimulated and all his muscles protest, but it’s worth it for the way Kylo _writhes_ , moans pouring from his open mouth.

Hux lets up and Kylo gasps. Then huffs a breathless laugh. “I’ll come if you command it.”

“Is that so?” Hux sets his hand between Kylo’s collarbones and squeezes his throat between thumb and finger. Kylo’s pulse races against his. “Will you come _when_ I command it, or only sometime after?”

“Command me and find out.”

Hux grins in delight. “Fine, you brat, you win. But not yet.”

He braces both hands on Kylo’s stomach to push himself up and off his cock. They both groan with the movement, Hux gapingly empty after stretching that far for that long. He half-crawls over Kylo and drops to the bed beside him. It jars his aching muscles, but he settles himself anyway, sitting with a good view of Kylo’s cock. He reaches out and runs a single finger along the underside. Kylo trembles and Hux withdraws.

“All right. Don’t even think about touching yourself. You beg for mercy when this doesn’t work for you. _Come_.”

Surely even Kylo can’t-

Kylo’s body coils with tension and come shoots from the tip of his cock, splashing across his stomach to mix with Hux’s. His face goes slack with pleasure, and he eases back down into the sheets. One by one his fingers relax from the tight fists they curled into. There’s a hum in the air, as though there’s a vibrating note hanging in the room just outside of hearing range.

Hux shakes his head and runs his fingertips through their mingled come. “Unbelievable.”

Eyes fallen shut, Kylo smirks. Then rolls his head in Hux’s direction. “May I clean that for you?”

“If you must,” Hux says, but his exhausted pulse spikes again as Kylo wraps his fingers around Hux’s and gently draws them up to his mouth. The swipe of his tongue feels just as good as it did on his cock. Kylo doesn’t miss a drop, and swallows with every sign of satisfaction at a job well done.

“How can this be all you want?” Hux asks. He didn’t plan to, not in this particular moment, but he has to know. “You could be anything, do anything. Why the pfassk have you chosen slavery?”

Kylo lets Hux’s hand fall, and gives a little shrug. “True power comes from suffering. Darkness breeds darkness. Every master I serve makes me stronger.”

“I didn’t buy you to make you suffer,” Hux snaps. He adds, more than a little insulted, “And I don’t think you were suffering just now.”

“No.” Kylo smiles. “You’re different to the others. They all wanted my abuse, never knowing I drank it like wine. Once my scars healed I left them, filled with the Dark, and found another to give me some more. Most of them I let have me for a few weeks at most. But you… I want something different from you.”

He opens his eyes and stares upwards, for all appearances through the ceiling and to the edge of the galaxy. “I went into that auction expecting just another lesson in torment. You changed things. I’ve never met someone like you before. I didn’t think I’d be ready so soon, but…” He nods firmly as if he’s come to a decision. “I’d be a fool to throw this chance away.”

“Ready for what?”

“My grandfather was born a slave,” Kylo says. “He served one master or another for his whole life. Each one made him into something greater. Under the last he became one of the Empire’s most feared commanders. I am following his path.” His bare chest swells a little with pride. “Each of my masters has tried to make me into what they want. I’ve been an obedient student, a conduit for the Force, a gladiator in the Geonosian areas, bent over and fucked until I dripped with it. A dozen other things. But I was using them for what I needed. Each one honed me into a finer weapon without even knowing it, and now I am ready to have what I want.”

“What do you want?” Hux whispers. He finds he desperately wants to provide it. His skin is thrumming with energy, concentrated in the places closest to Kylo. He’s lost all control over this situation, he realizes. Most likely he never had any. And yet all he can think about is possessing Kylo in whatever way he will permit.

Kylo’s dark, dark eyes meet Hux’s. “I want to stand at the shoulder of the most powerful being alive.”

He moves, sitting up and resettling his bulk, kneeling on the bed just behind Hux. Hux swallows.

Kylo looms over his right shoulder.

“I want to be the instrument of a will that fills the whole of the galaxy. I want a master worthy of commanding the weapon I have made of myself.”

Kylo’s head bows and his lips press a worshipful kiss to the jut of Hux’s collarbone. “Is that you, Hux? Will you take everything and demand I bring you more? Do you have the ambition I want to serve? I so hope you do. I won’t be wielded by just anyone, you know.”

Hux clears his throat and lifts his chin. He offers, “I am the senior general of the First Order. Within the year I intend to see the end of the New Republic and spread our control across their worlds.”

Kylo leans forward, chest to Hux’s back, and touches his lips to the very corner of Hux’s. Hux turns into the kiss and presses them together fully. Kylo’s mouth is warm and wet, and just as skilled at kissing as everything else. Hux’s hand rises and fists in Kylo’s hair. _Is that enough for you? Am I?_

Their lips part. Kylo’s eyes bore into Hux’s. And he smiles.

“It’s a start.”

**Author's Note:**

> For those interested, my tumblr is [here](http://ao3-arkada.tumblr.com/). The works on it are mostly Avengers and Frostiron, but I'm immersed in Kylux right now and planning to write more.


End file.
